Kintla Flatlands Wake me up when September ends

The voids were attached to the black male, their lack of color contending with the darkness of the face before him. Yuda stared straight at the wolf who had what seemed to have a few years on the juvenile, though the boy examined the movements that peeled themselves from the dryer animal before him.

And then words spilled from the opposing wolf's mouth. A passing thought clipped Yuda's brain, one that asked if the one before him ever considered that not speaking was an option. The boy silently wished he was mute, for he never found a use for words. His life would not fluctuate or be disturbed in any way.

His head moved marginally and deliberately to the left and then returned to its original position at a minutely quicker pace.